the lions of nardol the ambush
by elfwarden
Summary: a story about the the garrison of one of the gondorian beacons.this story is about meeting the primary figures. could become the first of a line of stories, although i make no promesses


The lions of Nardol "_The ambush" _

Disclaimer:

I do not own the lord of the rings; I have no intention of making money with this story, I just want to share my thoughts.

_**A/N**_

This is my very first story I have writtenand now posted on FF, the build-up might be a bit weird but i am still figureing out how this al works. Please review to let me know what you all think.

Special thanks to LittleLeaf for reading and correcting this story.

_**The story:**_

Nathor held his breath, he wanted to hear every single sound in his surroundings, he felt in his gut that there was something wrong, he just didn't know what.

Talmar imitated a black bird, the signal that the enemy was coming, Nathor remembered the orders he had been giving clearly, the patron had said: 'no orc or other fell beast from the mountains may reach the Great West Road, you will be commissioned to use three quarters of the forces stationed at Nardol to defend the road, and if there is an assault you must hold until reinforcements arrive' Those were the orders and now he and around 100 men were ready to ambush a column of goblins and orcs marching from the mountains to the road. But something was wrong he knew it.

The column came in to view. It wasn't the main column, he could tell from its size; it was a scout group, sent to clear a path for the main attack. He knew that his men could take them. His men were experienced enough to destroy this group and hold position till reinforcements would arrive, at least if everything would go as planned. But it didn't.

Nathor sprung out of cover with a cheer and jumped into the orcs slicing them open, crushing their skulls with his sword. His men followed close behind, ripping orcs and goblins open with their swords and sticking them on their spears, but the group reacted far more organised to the attack as they should have, and then Nathor saw them. A giant troll with uruk-hai all around him, storming at his men. The troll crushed men under his feet. The uruks stormed through the lines of the terrified and now outnumbered men.

This was a battle they could not win. They were surrounded on all sides, trapped. There was no way to escape, Nathor realised that, though he would not die without a fight, he rallied his men for a last stand. Already the field was covered with the corpses of dead soldiers; their lifeless bodies were being crushed under the feet's of the orcs, uruks and goblins.

Nathor made an outbreak together with every man who still had enough strength in his body to fight. They managed to flee in the woods near the mountains, their pursuers suddenly falling dead on the ground, arrows sticking out of their bodies. Suddenly around them men stood up, Talmar and his rangers, they too had managed to reach the woods.

Well, at least they were not alone any more.

Nathor and Talmar sneaked through the heavy rain to the edge of the woods, spying on the orcs who hade made camp near the woods, Nathor knew that they were waiting for the weather to turn and then march into the woods to kill all that had survived the battle.

Back at their camp, well you could not even call it a camp such was the chaos, wounded men all around, they would stand no chance against a full attack.

They had dispatched rangers to notify Nardol of their situation, though they would take several days to reach the garrison. In the meanwhile Nathor had to keep his men alive as long as possible, he and Talmar had decided to head for de Mountains and to seek shelter there. They would spy upon the orcs to know what their moves were.

The orcs could be heard from miles away, the troll smashing its way through the woods making large paths for the remains of the army. The archers stood upon the quickly assembled palisade, foot soldiers before it, all beyond fear, ready to fight to avenge their fallen comrades and to die. They were beyond reason. They would sell their lives dearly. The troll struck down the last remaining trees in front of the defence, a hail of arrows sneered through the sky at the point where the last tree fell. The troll was transformed in a pincushion, falling dead on the ground, crushing an orc under its weight. Well, Nathor thought, at least that one is gone. A second volley of arrows peppered the attackers, killing many, but for every dead orc another jumped in its place. Nahor jumped forward and crashed on top of an orc, breaking its neck on the way. Cutting down orcs, uruks and goblins in his way, blood spatters flew all around sticking to everything it touched. Nathors fury was unstoppable, caring nothing for the wounds inflicted upon him, he was furious; he would avenge his fallen men.

All along the thin line, men clashed with ors. The men seemed unstoppable, all were in a mood of fury, anger and sadness, caring nothing for their own lives. But the shear weight of numbers pressed the defenders backwards, all seemed lost, but suddenly there was a sound, a sound that was no part of the orc assault, it was the sound of horses. The reinforcements had come, making their way over the path created by the troll, the knights, while shouting: **_for Gondor!_** clashed in the orcish lines with such a force, that orcs and uruks went flying, only by the force of the knights charge. Inspired by the sight of the knights, the defenders rallied one last time and drove trough the lines of orcs like a hot knife through butter, orcs fled the battlefield in chaos and the remaining were cut down by the frenzied defenders and reinforcements.

They had won the battle.

Nathor collapsed; he had no strength in his body any more. The last thing he saw were men above his head, telling him something, but he didn't hear it, he blacked out.

He woke up in the sickbay. Suddenly: 'Welcome back on earth lieutenant' He turned his head, next to his bed sat his patron, lord Thoron. Nathor mouth dropped open. 'Surprised to see me here, at the bed a one of my lieutenants?' Nahor could only say: "yes", he was stunned by the presence of lord Thoron. 'You might want to know that the force you fought was around 550 orcs strong.' Nathor came to his senses: 'How many of my men have survived, besides myself' he asked. 'When the battle was over there were besides you 18 other survivors' said Thoron. Nathor started to cry, of the 100 men he commanded there were only 18 survivors, more than 80 of his men had died, over 80 casualties. 'How many orcs survived', he asked. He wanted to think of something else. 'No orcs survived' the patron said, 'I had given orders to wipe them out, so it happened'. Nathors mind returned to his lost men; almost all he had known, made a chat with once. Thoron saw his sadness and decided to tell him some good news. 'You will be promoted to Commander of the Northern Forces'. 'What about my men will they be honoured for their bravery'? 'Yes', Thoron said 'all the survivors are being promoted. And the fallen ones will be buried a heroes funeral. You can be proud! Your men have fought like lions'.

'Yes, like lions' Nathor repeated.


End file.
